They are stealing pages from the books in the library!

I am almost to the point that I am going to put a sign on the door "Stupid People steal pages from free books and magazines, so don't come in if you are STUPID!" but my supervisors won't allow it.

It is brought to mind because of non attribution abounds on the Internet.

From View From The Porch and the munchkin wrangler, their take on the theft of stealing from the person that did the work...

Me, I see the books with missing pages, pictures and information, books I have to remove and destroy... it probably started with school work one was too lazy to research and cite properly. Or it is just "everybody does it" and they look at you as though you are a fool because you don't do it or don't understand how easy it is to become 'Everybody'. It isn't your fault you are bad.

I do know, that when I pick up a weapon, and follow all the rules, good advice and engage a target - it doesn't help me if I tried to lift Breda's performance from her last range visit - nope, that instant of target, trigger, bullet and I - is all my fault and I had better make my Mother proud.

Gee, what were they thinkin'? Superior Scribbler?

I have been nominated and that is different, but I seem to be a write in so I can live with that, thank y'all very much.

Old NFO (Naval Flight Officer?) of Nobody Asked Me (and he shoots so well) thought I was worthy of a Superior Scribbler Award.

So to keep the magic moment going I need to find five to nominate:

The Armed Canadian who is a fine writer and shoots lots of strange old stuff and can look at Americans with clear eyes.

Frank W. James, of Corn, beans spent brass... who writes for love and money, but I read him because he writes about work, the land and it rings with the truth of traditional values.

MC, an old guy on a skateboard, Hopeless Old Men on Skateboards is where he scribbles artistically and he hits me in several levels, being hopelessly old myself and my son the Skater so far away.

Jeffro, of The Poor Farm , writes from his truck driving and sometimes the homestead, and drops off pictures and political cartoons and such to share.

BT, known as Big Tobacco, from The War on Big Tobacco , warning and disclaimer - he writes like a foul mouthed adult with stuff on his mostly military mind and a bit of an attitude. But I read him regularly. I once knew fellows like him, and all he ever alludes to about women isn't the half of it...

Now, according to the rules….
Every Superior Scribbler will name 5 other Super Scribblers.If you are named you must link to the author & the name of the blog that gave you the award. Then you must display the adorable award and link to THIS POST, which explains the award. The same post also allows you to add your link. Then they will have a record of all the people who are Super Scribblers!

There are several bloggers like Tam, Breda, Brigid, Jerry Pournelle, Kim du Toit, Chris Byrne that are too good to trouble much, but I love to follow their thoughts and stories.

Don't you know I would get so excited I forgot to publish the post?

How I met my lovely wife...

Just lucky, but a bit of background: You never meet anyone seriously in Korea without an introduction - match makers are serious business and the eligible pool shrinks as more get married off in generations - and families are involved and the Western ideas of a cool pick up line and exchange of telephone numbers or such don't really ring true. Jane Pauley came to Seoul for the Olympic coverage and mistakenly walked into a room of Korean men and not one of them paid any attention to her - she hadn't been introduced, they didn't know her marital status, family name, education level, position in life (the highest is to be the Mother of the son with the future of the family fortune) to them she didn't exist. That was so cool, and I like her and her husband for various reasons.

Anyway, I was told by one of the guys in my unit that I should come to his place and meet a young lady, and she was told by a friend that she should come to the same place and meet me. And that happened - we met. That is the story and the rest is life and couldn't be better.

Of course there was that time her sister was coming to visit her and she didn't want to spend any time with me, so when I saw her and hollered at her she took off running and I chased her (I thought I was fast in those days) but she got into the village and the maze of streets and I had no idea, why she ran or where she went.

And another time I wanted to see her and the gate was locked to the house where she rented a room, and I went through that gate like a hot knife through butter and the homeowner asked me later how I had done that, I demonstrated and he fixed half his security problem (I would always be the other half).

And then there was the time that I had duty on base and couldn't leave, and she knew it and arranged to beat up another woman that had been bothering her - probably one of her best fights, since everyone that knew us came back and told me about it. Violence in defense of self and pride was just fine in those days, I fought and she fought and once in a while we fought each other (passionately but not disabling nor deadly). Oh, the woman that she beat up, was the one that introduced us.

When she came to the United States to marry me, leaving all she knew and loved save me behind - try that fearless women! She was on an aircraft with a bomb, and waiting to get off almost two hours, while everyone on the aircraft and the at the airport weren't told what the problem was... breaking news, not!

Her biggest worry about the new marriage wasn't me, it was her future mother-in-law, which have the status in Korea of being terrible (read wicked witch of the East) until the new bride produces a baby boy and learns how to smooth Mother-in-law's ruffled feathers about keeping the house. Normally, first son's wife moves in with groom's parents, slowly changing but not for most Koreans. Which drove my mother, who so wanted to be friends with her children's spouses, and couldn't get close to my wife, who would get sick every time we would visit them, or they would visit us - tension is a terrible thing.

My brother got real close to upsetting me, he called my wife "Yobo" because he heard me calling her that, and that was fighting words - her name was Kum Cha and only I get to call her "Yobo" which means something like Darling or Dearest and is used between serious Korean couples and GI pidgin (if they never learn the language they make it up).

And one of her birthdays I gave her a most beautiful, meaningful and wonderful present - three silk scarfs, and she wouldn't talk to me all day. She had that long black hair and I had picked those perfectly and she wouldn't touch them after she saw what they were, and she wouldn't look at me and wouldn't talk to me. I was dead meat and didn't know why.

I was persistent and patient and worked at that mute woman all day, and she finally said "Do you really want me to leave?" and I said NO! She then told me that in Korea when you wanted to get rid of the girl friend, or second wife or unwanted but socially attached woman you gave her silk and she took off to the unknown to buy some land with it and support her since you have just terminated the relationship. Must not have had enough lawyers in the old days, I actually saw a Prince, in one of the Historic Serials we watch, send his consort away carrying her gift of silk.

So you see, it is exactly like I said at the beginning - I was lucky, or just really blest.

Is it the end yet? well of the work week, and

I had heard good things about Obama, from my son and a nephew during the primaries - they were looking for a change in government leadership and he sounded so good - I never found the time to listen, but I thought he was sincere and could be an improvement. I have really given up on Washington, DC, I do think the money men own the elected representatives of the people, not that some of them aren't worth owning, they do work hard but for whom? Until he decided he knew me and what my problem was:

As Obama put it: "(T)hey get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations

Well, I guess I identify with the gun clinging, religious folks - especially on motorcycles (just kidding about that). But I didn't have any love of McCain, except he was a Vietnam Vet, didn't come home early either. But as a politician he was tainted by DC, and his gun carrying isn't as good as I want so I was almost going to sit this election out. Oh, I would have voted - we have important local races to run and see if King County can manufacture votes again like they did last time - I am a real person and I only vote once per election, honest! But I was out of interest in the Presidential run off, I just didn't think the Republicans looked that different from the Democrats - suits cost about the same, haircuts too costly and the perks and paybacks are on both sides of the aisle. Kind of reminds me of my send off to a departing Battalion Commander - he was on his way to the Pentagon, would get promoted and start looking for that star, but I shook his hand and shook my head, when you get to Washington the only soldiers you are going to see are in Arlington or called in to march in a parade - everyone else in uniform is in politics.

Well, Senator McCain, I have to thank you for your great decision, Governor Palin, one of those bitter gun clinging, religious folk - and she doesn't put up with fools, nor corruption (even in her own party!). She doesn't deserve to be punished by living in Washington, DC. Isn't it time we centered the Capital again? To save fuel and increase Maryland's tax base, of course.

I surely do love fearless women.

work email today........ a ripple rebounds...

Question: You look like a Drill Sergeant Dungey I knew at Fort Sill, Oklahoma in the summer of 1977, are you the same person? He was the best drill sergeant in A Battery, 2nd Training BN.

Reply: BIO LINK I don't know about best Drill Sergeant, I only won the Drill Sergeant of the Cycle once. But I did like that job.

Questioner: I was just a trainee then with the third platoon, across the street from your first platoon. Just wanted to let you know, you were a great inspiration to me and many of my fellow trainees back then. I remember how you took your platoon out on very long runs in the morning and then ran again with many of them in the evening. You were a great example and when I later became a Sergeant with the Third Armored Division in Germany, you were one of the role models I tried to model myself after. Just wanted to say thanks.

You should think about applying to be a Community Corrections Officer in the field or even a weapons instructor, you are extremely qualified for both positions.

Reply: I really did like that job, glad I worked for you. I am so old, but would love to be a weapons instructor, but there are a few others around, Library Keepers are in shorter supply.

I really did like that job, Drill Sergeant Oliver - future Houston Policeman, drag racer and Deputy Sheriff and my friend.

Closed down and moving out...

I wrapped up a short week at the library, the crew did well, and what needed out is gone, what came in was receive and processed, the circulation was great on Monday, hanging back because of a Fire Alarm on Tuesday, and a too short hour on today. My Liaison checked in and looked around the library to see if we were still getting ready for the big inspections coming for accreditation. She thought we looked good, I think we will look better - I may be harder on myself and crew than some. My supervisors, the Gang of Three, are off plotting discomfort and readjustments in our, the Library Keepers, lives and work. Tomorrow we join them in Federal Way at the Palisades Retreat.

So for two, or three days for those from Western Washington institutional libraries, our services are cut off to our special populations. I will watch eagles swoop by, and humming birds dance, and take notes to be ready for work on Monday. Really it will be interesting, the other Keepers are better at social graces than I, are hard workers, and some of them have a great sense of humor - if we didn't laugh we would cry - something said to me long ago and far away, but it stuck. I packed up some work and ideas to share, and I will share, gently - I don't need to make waves, they will know I am around even if I don't grate and irritate. I am riding my motorcycle, the weather man promised no real rain today, and the forty plus degree temperature isn't a problem, it is near sixty-something by the time I take my last ferry ride of the week, low tide was 12:30 pm today, deeply it drew.

On my way home I stopped at the Triumph Dealer, to pick up my foot pegs. Seems I am dropping the bike too much and have to replace parts as they break. Which would make me an almost mechanic - but I am not - I treat putting things together to work like those wooden puzzles and IQ tests. I bought the Military approved reflective ugly orange vest by ICON, for riding on the Air Force Base and Fort Lewis. At home I had a great dinner, said good-bye to my wife going to church and I started working on cleaning, greasing chain and replacing broken parts and looking deeply at a new headlight rim, since it was one of the injured from the last great wreck. By the time my wife returned I had the motorcycle ready for the morrow's mission, she would start to work on fish and I would iron the shirts and close up domestically. Time for the hot shower - I washed my grease stained hands and arms three times this evening, do I really need a shower? Cyberspace isn't sharing smells yet, is it? Good night!

I have only fifty-eight minutes...

Busy week, did right well on Thursday and Friday. One inmate library worker returns from being imprisoned in F-unit, did thank me for sending him "Lord of the Silverbow" by David Gemmell and "Birds of Prey" by Wilbur Smith. He started working again on Thursday afternoon. I put the new books and all the new CDs into the system, linked with barcodes and new Call numbers, and found I have a security problem among my inmate library workers - since three of the new CDs were checked out to a patron that had no access to the CDs nor circulation stations - someone is working for themselves. I restricted the patron but the problem is the inmate library clerk - which one of three could have done it? (Don't you love Library Mysteries?) The rest of the day was normal, and I did turn in my reports for last month. I drove home in the Caravan wishing I had riden my motorcycle, but then I had choir practice so after a nice dinner with the television off and talking with my wife - I get to ride my motorcycle to the ATM and the Church and back home again. What a lucky guy!

Friday and I wrapped up well, fired up the motorcycle and rode into the thirty-six degree "cold enough for you?" morning. Yes, it was, but I know the weathermen are promising almost pure sexual-extrascy with temperatures of sixty-eight and SUNSHINE! So one has to ride to work, if it were warmer (like fifty-five at six in the morning) one would have to ride right on by the work and get into living lovely... Fingertips did provide painful sensory distraction, but I am a guy and that is what I do, ignore pain for the pleasure. I was almost doing wheelies with my throttle and clutch syncronizations... okay, I amplify my riding, but I was smiling then and now when remembering.

Normal Friday, I want to finish all the big stuff and get the place ready for opening Monday. Focus!, and I find my first distraction - one of my inmate library clerks - wants to talk to me in private, so we go into the workroom and close the door. He confesses to stealing some mylar bookcovers for another inmate. His walking with Christ and getting closer to God has him struck with GUILT, and after two days of prayer, talking to his preacher and more prayer and signs from above -- he came to confess and try to make it right. I fired him, congratulated him on getting right with God and himself and wished him lots of luck in the future - that he was on the proper path. He snuck back before lunch and returned the mylar. I tell the other three that he has been fired, and we get to work. Shipped books to camps, did ILLs, made copies of tax and other forms, received supplies, answered email, suggested that replacing broken CD jewel cases with more jewel cases didn't make sense, I would rather softer plastic (from China). I contact the new person at the Job Center for another worker, that may happen by Tuesday of next week.

I have my lunch alone: a pickle, sandwich (with sliced tomato - my wife loves me!) and an apple. The workers return and we open for inmate patrons, I talk with the Corrections Officer assigned to watch the movements, the Food Service manager stops by and talks to me about what I might need in the library - I ask for an espresso machine and doughnuts, but he was already burned by Ken Schram (KOMO4 NEWS) over the idea of a Latte stand in the prison. In Starbucks country it is a real living and skill, but we wouldn't want prisoners learning skills that might come in contact with the Latte drinking public, would we? I have been really supporting his Baking students, in new books and recipes, and buying their cookies and pies for my crew, and some bread for take home.

I talked books, found information and filled requests for assistance and filled my last book cart for purchase from this year's money, all gone. I sent that in for approval and purchasing, with the weeding done the library wasn't perfect when we closed and locked up, but pretty close for a bunch of men without women directly supervising their efforts. I locked up, dropped off distribution for the inmates, and walked to the dock and the waiting ferries. The tide is really low, and I imagine that the closer ferry might get stuck in the muck if the water disappears a few more inches - what was that Global Warming rising sea levels thingy? It isn't going to happen, but I am yawning so much by the time I an seated I collapse on myself and the bench and fall soundly into sleep - it is Friday.

When I wake and walk up the steep gangplank I start thinking of the beauty of the day, it is warm, the Sun is OUT, and I have a motorcycle waiting in the parking lot. I fly home, much better than the American Airline company - I buy my eleven dollars worth of fuel for the next hundred and fifty miles. While there a patient from Western State Hospital politely asked if he could admire my machine and ask about it, and he did. I know he is from the hospital because he is very polite and he tells me that he rode a Triumph in the 1970s just like mine. A driver filling his SUV (and costing him his paycheck) comes across the pumps and admires the bike, too. Of course he rode one in the Sixties when they were hot. I am pumped, because I have a bit better than only memories and bask in their admiration for my fine steed. The patient asks if he can listen to me start the bike up, and I ask if he is going to listen now, and I hit the fuel valve, key and starter switch - they both wish me safe riding and I cruise out to be waved on by a policeman waiting to give someone a ticket. Not me, but I roll on and lean left and am going, going and gone.

I could bore you with the brunette in the Mustang convertible with the top down that looked at me (she didn't but I know she put her turn signal on to cut in front of me - she knew I was alive) or how much I wanted to run with the coed that was in her tanktop, shorts and high speed running shoes (she is much too serious and fast for me - but lovely). I did count sixteen parked motorcycle in front of Eagle Leather and lots of motorcycles on the road doing their best to better me - nah, I ride alone -- always happy to see other two wheelers with engines winding along giving me the V signals that I have to flash back or nod approvingly if my clutch hand is working. One of the club, and I am laughing or smiling at the way the lean goes deep and the throttle roars in answer and straightens me out without dropping to the gravity well of Earth. I think I have my machine broken in now, it wants to leap up on the rear wheel and paw the air - or I do and I am not a trick rider but a sane safe fellow wearing a four-in-hand tie under his leather jacket. It is Friday and the Eagle flies or the Dragon...

Need something to desire but never really achieve?

I like to look, I like to think I am more than I really am and that brings desires like this one, way more than I need (own two .45's now) but doesn't that picture just set my heart to thumping, 46 bpm instead of the normal 45... yep, and a nice name.

HUNTER

What more could a gentle old library guy want to play with? that his wife would approve of?